Taming Tresses
by I know okay
Summary: After a picture in the paper Hermione drags Harry along to see a hairstylist, but Harry is suspicious that's her only motive. HP/DM


**Taming Tresses**

**AN: ** _Just another silly little fic. I blame getting my hair done last week for this one. That, and I'm extremely vain about my own hair actually. Also, I have a relative that's a hairstylist and an enabler.  
_

**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing._

**Summary: ** _After a picture in the paper Hermione drags Harry along to see a hairstylist, but Harry is suspicious that's her only motive._

Harry angrily threw done the Daily Prophet on his kitchen table. Hermione had come over with it since he no longer subscribed to that backstabbing paper and only pissed him off. She, however, thought it better to know what was being said about him. He disagreed. This time, though, it wasn't the article. The article was about an arrest he'd made on a big case and was surprisingly charitable towards him, this time. No, what made him so angry was the picture of himself. Glaring at it, he huffed, "I look like a demented hedgehog." His red auror robes were askew from chasing his prey, he was sweaty, his glasses were broken, and worst of all, his hair was all over the place. Harry had long ago given up on it and just brushed it furiously in the morning after his shower with gobs of gel and some spells. It was hopeless.

Hermione smiled, and asked, "Your hair?"

"Of course my hair!" he exclaimed. The rest of his appearance wasn't bothersome to him, he had just chased down a notorious criminal. He was allowed to be a little disheveled.

"Well, you know you could go see my guy, if it really bothers you as much as you say it does," Hermione offered. She knew Harry didn't care too much about his appearance, never had, and probably never would. However, she also knew that his hair was a sore spot for him, as his relatives constantly picked on it. No matter how many haircuts he had his magic grew it back to the exact same length as a kid and an adult.

"Hermione," Harry growled in warning. "I don't need _a guy_."

Chortling with laughter, Hermione inquired, "Are you _sure_ about that?"

Thinking back on what he just said, Harry laughed as well. "You know what I mean, 'Mione. I wouldn't mind getting a date with one though."

"Hmm... well, you should see my guy. It might help in the looks department," Hermione admitted carefully. She knew he was sensitive about how people never asked him out. In the wizarding world, the gay men he saw were either terrified of the Boy-Who-Lived, or wanting to use his fame for some other nefarious purpose. Hermione didn't think that was always true, but after Harry dating enough of them, she didn't begrudge him the caution. Muggles only knew him by looks alone and that never drew them in, he did look like a demented hedgehog, only all the time, not just in that picture. She knew he could look better, but as he never bothered, to most he looked lazy and never took any pride in his appearance. Hermione blamed his muggle relatives in part for this. Harry couldn't even win people over in the muggle world with his personality. He had too many secrets to keep from them and nothing long term could ever come out of a date with a muggle. He seemed screwed on both sides.

"Hermione, if I go see _your guy_, then what if I still look like shite? He is my last hope and if even he can't help me, then I'm going to be more depressed about it," Harry confessed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed to her own hair. "Do you not remember what my hair looked like in school? Huge? Bushy? Horrible? Does it look like that now?" she questioned him.

"No," he said weakly.

"_My guy_ helped me and he can help you too," Hermione proclaimed, with a twinkle in her eye.

Harry looked her hair over. It did look better than it did when they were younger. Whether she wore it straight or in the natural curls she had it was always smooth, shiny, and touchable. Straight men may or may not notice that much, he didn't know, but they certainly hit on her more often now, much to Ron's increasing chagrin. "All right. I'll try _your guy_, if it matters to you so much," Harry caved, and watched as Hermione gave him a wide grin. He looked at her warily. She looked like the Cheshire cat.

"Great! I'll make an appointment for you myself, that way you can't talk yourself out of it," Hermione said, entirely too happily, in Harry's opinion. "I'll let you know when it is later." She hugged him and left through the floo with parting goodbyes. Harry groaned feeling as if he just walked into a trap, but of what, he wasn't sure. How could it be anything? It was just a haircut, right? Right?

~HPDM~

"I pulled some strings to get you this appointment, Harry. Don't back out now. _My guy_ agreed to stay after hours just for you," Hermione warned Harry the next day after his shift was over. She wanted this done quickly as she knew he'd talk himself out of it or find some excuse not to go or be too busy. After his big case ended all he had was paperwork left, no running around chasing bad guys at the moment.

"What? We're going now? Already?" Harry asked her in some terror. Now he knew she was up to something and it couldn't just be about hair. That didn't rate that high on her 'get Harry to do what I want now' scale.

"Yes, now," she stated firmly and grabbed his arm to apparate. They appeared in an alley somewhere in muggle London, Harry thought.

"We're going to see a muggle? Hermione, I can't go there. What happens when my hair grows back?" he pleaded, and started to turn to apparate away.

"_Petrificus Totalus,_" she shot out before he could leave, landing him hard on the street. "You're not going anywhere, Harry James Potter. My guy knows what wizards are, so no more excuses. Now when you get up we are walking there and you don't get to say another word about it. _Finite Incantatum_."

Harry got up and grumbled at her bossiness, rubbing his shoulder, but followed her anyway. He knew her wrath if he didn't would be much worse.

Written in curlicued green lettering with a black background was a sign atop the small building with the words Taming Tresses. Beside it was a small green dragon. Harry frowned at the sign, what did a dragon have to do with hair?

Hermione didn't give him long to ponder the question before ushering him inside eagerly. What he walked in on was a bit unexpected, yet as he thought about it, it was perfect. The walls were painted black with a green shimmer to them. Harry always loved that color, even if he hid it as it was too Slytherin. The floor, ceiling, and crown-molding were all a bright white, making the room much brighter than an entirely white room. There were several silver and crystal chandeliers hanging above him. "Wow, Hermione, this place looks great," Harry gasped and felt at home there.

Hermione laughed, and asked, "You really think so?"

"Yeah, it's very..." Harry struggled with the right word, then finding it, ended with, "chic."

"Yes, it sure is and definitely a surprise coming from you," a lanky blond man drawled from the corner.

Harry whipped around on Hermione fast as lightning and accused, "Draco Malfoy is _your guy_? Are you _trying_ to make me bald?"

"I don't think Dear Granger had anything of the sort on her mind. She's been wanting you to come here for a long time, myself included. Can you imagine what it would do for my business if I could get you looking as good as Dear Granger, Potter?" Malfoy questioned, while motioning to one of the chairs. Harry huffed and sat down as Hermione gave him a death glare.

"The room has given me some insight into what you like," Malfoy said, confusing Harry. "Now take a look at these pictures and tell me which of these styles you prefer over the others." Handing a book over to Harry, Malfoy deliberately grazed his hand over Harry's, making him shiver. Ignoring the confusion and the touch Harry looked at the book expecting various haircuts on other men. What he didn't expect were all pictures of himself with a different hairstyle and a few different looks he could pull off with each one. Flabbergasted, he had no idea which one suited him, he liked all of them. No demented hedgehog hair here. Maybe some deliberate 'I just got shagged hair', but all of them looked incredible and he looked incredible in the pictures. He had no idea he could even come close to looking that good. Finally, he decided on one that left his hair mostly the same, just with more controlled mess, that he thought he could possibly imitate later. Pointing at it with his finger, Malfoy claimed, "Excellent choice. Now let's see what magic I can work."

Harry snorted, "I suppose you think I should be blond like you?"

With a guffaw that made Harry jump from the chair, Malfoy took out his wand and pointed at his hair. Turning Harry a platinum blond, he asked, "Do you think you could even pull off this color?" Looking in the mirror Harry was horrified. He looked absolutely terrible in that color and it contrasted terribly with his dark stubble. While it would definitely stir attention, it wasn't the kind he wanted. "No? How about ginger? You'd fit right in your adoptive family with that one." Draco again changed the color to a bright red and Harry groaned. "Gah! That's hideous, Potter." Releasing the spells that would let him see what he would look like with a new color, Draco proclaimed, "I think you were born with the right color, Dear Harry. We'd better not change it unless you go gray in the near future." Harry only nodded in agreement.

Malfoy ran his hands through Harry's hair and looked closely at it shaking his head. "What?" Harry finally snapped.

"Dear Harry, you are torturing your hair. Why? I'm going to have to give you a deep conditioning treatment and you are going to have to stop abusing your hair," Malfoy scolded him looking at him seriously in the mirror.

Harry rolled his eyes. "If you had hair like mine you'd do the same, and stop calling me Dear Harry."

Malfoy laughed and claimed, "I call all my clients Dear. So sorry, Dear Harry, I cannot, nor will I, stop. You are mistaken about your hair, Dear Harry. It is perfect. It is you that's the problem."

"What are you on about?" Harry asked as he caught Hermione attempting to slip unnoticed out the door. He didn't say anything as after that touch he thought she was probably trying to set him up, under another pretense. What could Malfoy really do to him anymore anyway? If he did, Harry was sure it would be welcomed now.

Giving an exasperated sigh, Malfoy threw his arms wide and informed Harry with over the top seriousness, "You have volume and body, Dearest Harry, whereas, I do not. What you see are things I do to make it that way. I wasn't so lucky to be born that way, like you. Now, stop pulling you hair, throw your brush out, you're only making it worse; use your fingers only to style and quit washing it so much."

Harry's eyes went wide. He was complemented by his former nemesis? About his looks no less. "That doesn't make sense. I need a brush to make it lay down," Harry argued. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at his hair.

"I won't give that advice to everyone, but I'm giving it you. If you want the hairstyle you picked out, then that's what you must do, along with the hair potions give you," Malfoy advised.

Rolling his eyes, Harry decided to just close his eyes and wait until it was done. "Now, now, don't hide those gorgeous green eyes from me, Dearest Harry. If you hadn't worn glasses back in school I would have fallen for you over those eyes alone," Malfoy admitted while getting to work on his hair. Harry opened his eyes in shock at him. So Malfoy was attracted to him; that little touch meant what Harry thought it had, but could have been passed off as nothing.

Finally relaxing under Malfoy's touch on his head, Harry looked around once again and inquired, "This place sure looks nice, what made you decide on the design?"

Malfoy gave a great laugh, "My Dearest Harry, I didn't design the place, you did."

Frowning at him, Harry choked out, "What?"

Smiling at Harry, Malfoy explained, "Whenever I get a client, I write them down in my scheduling book. The one you were holding actually. Before the appointment the magic from the book and the room make it exactly like you would want and gives me insight into your personality, then shows me what you would look like with different cuts. Dearest Granger has a warm red and brown style that fits nicely with her personality. It's quite ingenious of myself, don't you think?"

All Harry could respond with was, "Wow."

"I'm considered the best for a reason," Malfoy said proudly, then pointed out, "And you, my Dear Harry, have a little Slytherin in you."

"Not yet I don't," Harry quipped, making the pale blond blush pink. He wondered how far down the blush went.

Harry talked with Malfoy a little more over the appointment. He thought it was probably taking longer than it should, but he didn't feel in any hurry to leave the blond's company. Harry knew he would be happy with his look, but disappointed when he walked out the door. It had been so long since he had talked to an attractive and probably gay wizard that didn't fawn all over him.

"Dearest Harry, what do you think?" Malfoy asked with a flourish when he was done.

Harry barely recognized himself. He actually looked attractive. The new style brought out his eyes as well. He was a little uncertain about the new look, but he thought once the newness was over it would be great and told Malfoy so. The blond beamed a wide smile and booked his next appointment along with hair potions and instructions to get the exact same style at home.

When Harry could no longer make any excuses to stay there he reluctantly headed to the door. "Dearest Harry," Malfoy called and Harry turned around hopefully, with his hand on the door handle. "How about you and I go to the coffee shop down the street and see where this goes."

Harry beamed at Malfoy, and answered back, "I'd love to, Draco." The blond smiled and Harry decided he couldn't get enough of that and was determined to make Draco do it more often. The two left the shop not knowing if anything would come of this other than a good haircut, but hoping it was more.


End file.
